


your perfect chaos

by Valhella



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: (and the trauma they have to live with for the rest of their lives), Aftermath of Torture, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Guilt, M/M, Night Terrors, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, TDC destroyed me and this is my semi-happy ending for them, They're both really fucked up for different reasons, but they have each other!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-12 04:49:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13540011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valhella/pseuds/Valhella
Summary: Thomas and Minho pick up the pieces.





	your perfect chaos

**Author's Note:**

> tdc has been out for like a week now and still no thominho fic....unbelievable, i have to do everything myself

When Thomas closes his eyes, he sees Newt, and he doesn't expect it to ever stop. He allows the guilt to eat away at him, to leave him rotting away like a crank.

"I don't blame you," is what Minho tells him the first night. "What hurts is that you think I do." 

"Thanks," Thomas lets out.

He knows Minho sees Newt, too. The time he's known Newt, in the maze and out, was incomparable to the three years Minho had known and grown close to him. They they had each other, they had grown close, they had been broken by the maze and the scorch and they picked up the pieces like it was nothing. 

Minho sees Newt, but everything else in between that he's refused to talk about, that keeps him screaming until he can't speak every other night - it's just another thing to keep him up at night. 

.

 

"What is that." 

It's a more a statement than a question, a demand if anything else. The medjacks (doctors, which Minho refused to call them), what few of them they could take to the safe haven, were lucky to have a limited amount of supplies, most of which where restricted to the kids who had barely made it out of the city. 

"It's just some stuff you're missing...nutrients, electrolytes. Don't worry about it." The medjack smiles at him.

Thomas gives him a reassuring pat. Minho doesn't react, eyes glued to the syringe held in front of them, filled with a clear, liquidy substance.

"We're not here to hurt you," one of the other medjacks says, though Minho flinches from her touch when she reaches for his arm. "We want you to heal. All of us."

That's sets something off in him. Thomas can see it when Minho's eyes meet his, and he says, voice shaking, "You're not putting any of that in me." He pushes himself off the surface they propped him up against, and Thomas watches in defeat as he makes his way out of the medjack tent.

"I understand what you kids have all been through, your friend especially," one of the medjacks says as she turns to Thomas. "But there are ways to work through this type of trauma."

"Can you help him? Feel better," Thomas adds, but it's too late; he already recognizes the naivete of the question.

"It's not that black and white," the other medjack says. "This goes beyond what we can supply. He'll have those memories for the rest of his life, yes. But he'll also have friends to help him through it. Help him figure out what's real and what isn't." 

Thomas sighs at that. He almost swears he catches a wisp of blonde when he peers out of the tent. "Not all of them." 

 

.

 

Thomas finds him in one of the sea caves, kicking at the sand at the entrance, broken out of his trance when Thomas approaches. His body stiffens as Thomas finds a spot next to him.

"I don't like those medjacks," he says honestly. 

"They're doctors," Thomas offers. "They're here to help."

"Doctors,"  Minho repeats. "Used to think that was a good thing, too." 

Thomas takes a minute to let all of it click into place. He hears the medjack say "It's not that black and white", and thinks about how Minho will lump all of them together; the doctors, the needles, the safe haven, the Glade.

"You can talk to me about any of it," he affirms.

There's a silence at first. One that leaves Thomas chilled to the bone.

"I didn't mean to run out back there," Minho finally says. "But that's exactly the kind of klunk they used to tell me. Using 'we', as if I wanted to be their little guinea pig. 'How are we feeling today?'. 'We don't want any more cranks, do we?' That kind of talk. It sounded too much of what they would tell me. Almost like I was -"

"Right there," Thomas finishes. 

Minho sniffs. "Yeah." 

Minho takes off his jacket and pulls the sleeve of his shirt up, where Thomas sees the remnants of WCKD's work, puncture mark after puncture mark lining the pale skin of his forearm. Thomas rubs a hand over his mouth, trying to find his words. "Theyre - they're not going to take anything from you."

Minho laughs at that. A light, humorless snicker. "Well, they put stuff in me too. All the blood they'd removed, they put shit back in to compensate. I mean I was drugged half my mind most the time. Maybe I'm just imagining it. Maybe this," he gestures to everything, to the cave, to Thomas, the sand beneath their feet, "isn't real." 

"It's real," Thomas reassures, and he puts his own hand over Minho's, preserving the feeling of ease that follows when Minho doesn't flinch for the first time in days.

They stay like that for a while.

"I'm real."

 

.

 

Minho screams his throat raw the next night, and Thomas almost feels it himself. It's routine. One night he'll scream about WCKD, the next Thomas will scream about Newt. It's a toss of a coin at this point. 

Their tent is shared, their cots clumsily stacked next to each other to create a single bed that both pretended wasn't the most uncomfortable thing in the world.

Minho is saying "no" over and over, even when his eyes are open, even when Thomas is shaking him awake. "Minho, it's me, wake up!" Thomas urges. "Come back to me.  _Come back_." Minho glances around, panting, glassy eyes meeting Thomas's. He mutters something quickly, and Thomas catches the words "glade" and "maze". 

He pushes himself off the bed so suddenly Thomas almost flies back, and rips the tent's flap to the side as Thomas hurries behind. "Where am I?" he demands.

"You're with me, you're here with me," Thomas promises. Shaking hands find each side of Minho's face. "You're home." 

 

.

 

Two days later Thomas feels the weight of the knife in his hand. He feels the twist of the blade into flesh. He sees Newt press the gun to his temple, hears the pant of final breaths as he falls to the ground.

"I see him too," Minho says the next morning, setting himself next to Thomas. Then they watch the waves crash for a few minutes. "I think he'd beat you over the head bloody if he knew how much you blamed yourself."

Thomas shakes his head. "I couldn't save him."

"I ran for him. And so did Brenda, and Gally and Fry. Do you think it's our fault, too?"

Thomas wants to poke holes in Minho's logic. Instead, he lets Minho take his hand. Minho grips it back, holds tight enough to ground himself to reality. 

 

.

 

Their legs are tangled in their cot-bed ("Do you need a third one?" Brenda offers, the corners of her mouth twitching), their foreheads touching, Thomas's long fingers running circles on Minho's scalp.

Their lips press together, a kiss so light Thomas can't feel the mattress beneath him. 

He's never had a home that he can remember. Neither has Minho. But when he looks into Minho's eyes, he finds it. And he knows Minho feels the same way. 

There will be nights where Minho will tell him it wasn't his fault, and there will be mornings Thomas will shake him awake and tell him yes, yes you are in the safe haven, yes you are here with me, yes this is real,  _yes I'm real._

"Is this real?" Minho echoes. 

Thomas's breath hitches. "As it'll ever be." 

 

**Author's Note:**

> tdc wreckt me and if i don't see anymore thominho fic im gonna fly into the sun


End file.
